


Old Flame

by mediocrityatbest



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, I'm not sure how well I did this or how it should be tagged, M/M, So please please please read with care, This contains past Prnixiety, Unhealthy romantic relationship prinxiety, current and healthy anxceit and royality, it's two people talking about the stuff they did that they shouldn't have done, okay?, past abusive behaviors, talking about an unhealthy relationship, they are trying to forgive the trauma so they can live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-20 20:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest
Summary: Roman had a high school sweetheart. He hasn't seen him in over ten years and for all he knows the man could be dead.Then he shows up unexpectedly, and it turns out to be something both of them needed.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	Old Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. This does contain talk of an abusive/unhealthy relationship that took place between two characters, and them trying their best to get past it. It's a very delicate topic, and I really wanted to do it justice but I am not experienced with the situation. Please use your own discretion before deciding to read, my dudes, I don't want anybody to get hurt because of it.

When Remus looked up, stiffened, and growled, “Don’t look now,” Roman assumed he had seen one homophobe or another they had become accustomed to running into in their town. The last thing he expected to see when he turned around was Virgil Eli, a decade and a half older and looking - better.

Roman freezes, staring down someone he had never expected to see again. When Virgil looks up and sees Roman’s eyes on him, he seems just as immobilized as Roman is by what’s occurring.

Then he leans down to say something to the man whose hand he’s holding and jerks his head toward them. The man examines Roman shortly before pecking Virgil’s lips and releasing his hand, saying ‘go’. Roman can see the breath Virgil takes, the way it expands his chest and slowly drains out, and he wonders why it seems so alien on someone he knew so well, once.

Remus snarls when Virgil starts approaching and it snaps Roman out of his daze. He looks between his brother and his ex, looks between the person who had done most of the picking up the pieces and the one who had done most of the breaking, and stands between them. Remus, he knows, is more than willing to have this confrontation on behalf of Roman. But whatever is about to happen is something that Roman needs to face. On his own.

“Roman?” Virgil says. His voice is deeper and rougher than it had been before. It’s still quiet and unsure, too, but for some reason there’s a different ring to it.

“Hey, Virgil,” Roman says. He doesn’t know how to continue this conversation or even if he should.  _ Long time, no see? Where have you been? How’s life been treating you? Where on Earth did you run off to? _

“It’s, um, been a while.” Virgil rubs the back of his neck, something he used to do whenever he was feeling overwhelmed or attacked. It was something Roman is intimately familiar with, yet it felt different now, somehow. “Can we talk?”

Roman opens his mouth without a clue as to what he’s going to say when Remus stands up from the table, glaring at Virgil like he’d never seen something so disgusting. “Anything you have to say to my brother can be said right here. Or you can walk the fuck out. Better yet, why don’t you just walk yourself right in front of a car?”

The other members of their group choke, shocked. It occurs to Roman that he had never properly explained the situation with him and Virgil, or how any of it came to pass. Or why Remus would want Virgil to walk into oncoming traffic.

“Hey, dude,” Roman says, holding one hand up to Remus. “It’s okay. Stand down, please.” He redirects his gaze to Virgil, who does not, to his limited credit, seem the least bit surprised or offended by Remus. “Sure. Let’s go outside.”

“We can talk here, if you want,” Virgil says, but there is the slightest tremor in his voice that tells Roman he really does not want that to be the case. “I don’t mind if they hear what I have to say.”

“I think it’s a conversation best had in private.” Roman shrugs on his jacket and leads Virgil out of the coffee shop. There’s a bench conveniently placed right outside the big window, and Roman takes a seat on it, sipping at his coffee.

“What’s up with you?” he asks. It’s not the right question, but it’s not wrong either. It’s hard to say how a conversation as loaded as the one he intends to have should start, but pleasantries could always come first.

“Nothing too much,” Virgil says. He rubs his hands together, causing a chorus of tiny clacks as his rings smacked into each other. “How’s life been treating you?”

“Good,” Roman says, and it’s truer than it’s ever been. “What are you doing back here?” Another not right, not wrong question, but the questions are getting closer to what was really important.

“It’s home.” Virgil crosses his arms tightly over his chest, staring out at the road. “I grew up here, know every one of these roads like a locksmith knows keys. I think I was always going to come back.”

“Where did you go?” Roman asks, and that is the million dollar question. They had been childhood best friends, high school sweethearts, in love into adulthood. But things hadn’t gone well for them, had gone as awfully as Roman could imagine them going, and one day with no warning Virgil had left. Left without a note or a number to call, never picked up the phone when Roman did call him - until one day someone else did and Roman figured Virgil had died.

“I-a lot of places.” Virgil isn’t looking at him, and that too is reminiscent of the Virgil Roman knew but not quite the same. He can’t pinpoint the differences, but there has to be something. Otherwise Roman would probably feel a lot more sure-footed than he currently did. “Not many worth mentioning, though. To be entirely honest, which is the least of the things I owe you, I was so fucked up most of the time I can’t remember most of them.” Virgil shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Roman gets caught on the words, replays them like a broken record.  _ So fucked up, so fucked up, so fucked up. _

“Oh,” Roman says.

“I got sober, though,” Virgil continues like Roman hadn’t said a thing, and Roman doesn’t say another word so that he can hear whatever Virgil has to tell him. “And clean. I went to rehab for a while, therapy. Got put on meds that didn’t make me-well, that didn’t make me crazy.” He smiles, and it’s the happiest smile that Roman has seen on his face since they were nine years old.

“That’s good,” Roman says, and it is good. It’s good that Virgil got better than he was when they were together. It wasn’t-it wasn’t a good time for either of them, not something that Roman can usually look back on fondly.

“Yeah, it is.” Then Virgil does look at Roman, and Roman realizes that he has snakebite piercings and an eyebrow ring. The bags under his eyes are all make-up now instead of the ever-present exhaustion they used to be. The beanie on his head and his hair dyed black almost completely obscure his ears, but Roman can make out the telltale glint of quite a few more pieces of metal. Virgil has changed. A lot.

“One thing they teach you in AA, and in therapy, is about making amends. Especially where I went for AA, they were always driving home that you needed to apologize and mean it to the people you fucked over while you were fucked up.” Virgil pauses, releases another breath that Roman can see puff in front of his face. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. At Roman’s look, he twists his mouth into that familiar, cute sneer that he used to pull when they were together, but it seems softer now as he says, “What? You have to have some vices,” and inhales smoke.

“I suppose so,” Roman agrees.

“Anyway. Roman, you are the person I have needed to apologize to the most. While we were together, I was-I was fucking despicable to you. I was hurt and broken, and I expected you to put me back together despite you having to face your own problems and me not putting any effort forth for the same outcome. I thought being in love with you would fix me, and when it didn’t I blamed you. I did-I did a lot of things to you that I regret, enough that I’ll probably never be able to think of them all.” Virgil flicks ash off his cigarette, and Roman realizes that Virgil seems calmer than he used to; less jittery. “I treated you like shit. As much as I loved you, I treated you like you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. Sorry doesn’t really begin to cover it, not with all the ways I messed up with us, but I am sorry. I wish everything that had happened between had been better.”

“It wasn’t entirely your fault,” Roman says, because it’s true. They had fought all the time, for a while. They had blamed each other for everything. The night before Virgil disappeared, Roman had yelled  _ I can do so much better than you _ in a rage and stormed out the door. When he had come back the next day, Virgil had taken all their loose money and booze and left.

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees and that easy, amicable way is enough to really shock Roman. Virgil had never liked it when Roman contradicted him and was right. “We both contributed. But I caused a lot more of it than you did, and I failed to consider you in what I did. I was a shitty, shitty excuse for a boyfriend, Ro. The things I did and said are-are pretty unforgivable. I’m sorry I put you through it all.”

“It’s,” Roman says and stops. He was going to say  _ it’s okay _ , but that would be a blatant lie. Nothing about the end of their story was okay. He starts again with, “It was terrible. But I forgive you. I forgave you a long, long time ago.” At Virgil’s surprised look, he elaborates. “I was mad at you for years. Pissed. But it was making me miserable, so I eventually went and saw someone. I, uh, I worked through a lot of the things that you did, and the ways I provoked the situations. Neither of us were at a great place, Virgil. Maybe in a different time, under different circumstances, we could have worked out. But as it was...we weren’t ready yet.”

“Huh,” Virgil says. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Roman says, grinning. Virgil smiles back. It’s nice, Roman thinks, in a way he didn’t think this could ever have been.

“You said they put you on meds,” Roman says after they’ve been sitting for a minute. “Doesn’t that mess with your addiction?”

“They only put me on non-addictive shit,” Virgil says, “and I only ever take what I’m prescribed.”

“How long have you been clean?” Roman asks.

“I stopped using nine years ago. I had my last drink six years ago. Nicotine and caffeine are my last guilty pleasures,” Virgil says, letting out another puff of smoke. Roman snorts.

“I like the piercings,” he says.

“Thanks. I wanted some, Dee convinced me on others.” Virgil smiles, reaching up to touch his eyebrow in a move that seems like he’s unaware of it. He looks dopey and in love and incredibly happy. There’s a part of Roman that wants to be mad, that wants to be pissed off that Virgil could have gone through so much, caused  _ so much _ and still come out the other side this content and happy with who he is and what he has, but most of Roman is relieved that they both made it out alive. It’s easy to drown out the voice that wants to fall back into old habits after all these years.

“Dee?” Roman asks, because asking Virgil these questions and hearing the answers is simultaneously satiating and feeding every curiosity he’s ever had about what happened to Virgil once he slipped out the door when Roman wasn’t looking.

“My fiance,” Virgil says. He points into the cafe at the man he came in with. The man pulls a smile and waves, and Virgil waves back. They both have a punk style to them, ripped jeans and flannels, old shirts and beanies, piercings and tattoos and fingerless gloves. It’s a good look.

“Getting married,” Roman says, and he gets excited despite himself. He loves weddings. “That’s exciting.”

“Yeah. I love him. I asked him out five years ago and I’ve never been happier.” Another difference between them; Roman had done the asking out when they were young. Virgil was too shy to even say hi. Virgil takes one last puff of his cigarette and crushes it under his boot. “Well, what about you? I assume both those men in there aren’t your brother’s.”

“No, no, you’re correct. My adorably freckled beau, the one dressed in light blue. We’ve been dating for two years. He is my everything. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”

“I’m glad,” Virgil says. Roman tears his eyes away from Patton to see Virgil, and he notices the tears shining in his eyes. “I am so glad you found him and that you’re happy. I was so scared for years that I had fucked you up so bad that you’d never be okay again. I was terrified that you wouldn’t ever get to be happy. I’m glad you’re happy. I’m grateful. You deserve it so much, Roman. More than anyone else I know.”

“I am happy,” Roman says. “And I do deserve it. But you deserve it too, and I’m glad you’ve found it.” Roman reaches out and squeezes Virgil’s hand. He smiles at Roman, and it is  _ so much happier _ than Roman can ever remember seeing him it’s overwhelming. “I’m glad you got better, Virge.”

“Me too.” Virgil lets out a watery laugh and wipes his eyes, smearing make-up across his face. “God, I knew I should’ve put on the waterproof eyeliner this morning.” Roman laughs with him, pretending that he isn’t just as affected. Virgil stands up and looks down at Roman. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Princey.”

“It wouldn’t be too terrible if you did,” Roman answers. Virgil walks back into the coffee shop. Roman stays where he is for five, ten, fifteen more seconds before he pitches his cup and goes back to his table.

“That was Virgil?” Patton says, Roman’s world. He looks worried, and Roman knows this will be a lot of explaining later, but he feels lighter.

“Yeah. An-an old ex of mine. We had a rough time.” Roman takes Patton’s hand and kisses his knuckles, relishing the feeling. “But we’re both better now, so I think it’s okay.”

“What did he have to say?” Remus demands, glaring across the cafe. Roman almost asks if he glared at Virgil’s fiance the whole time they talked, but decides he’d rather not know.

“He apologized,” Roman says, and that takes Remus back for a moment.

“He can shove his apology up his ass,” Remus spits, but there’s less bite to the words.

“I believe this one of those ‘all’s well that ends well’ times, Remus,” Logan says. “Perhaps it would be best if we left it as it is.”

“Specs is right,” agrees Roman. “We both did things we shouldn’t have, and we both moved past it. That’s what’s important here.”

As Roman settles back in to his table and lets conversation about other, trivial things go in one ear and out the other. Roman thinks on everything. He spent years of his life with Virgil, years of his life being in love and suffering for it. He spent years in an unhealthy relationship that they both should have gotten out of if they were smarter. But they didn’t, and it changed them. Roman can’t say whether it was for better or worse, but he knows that he would be an entirely different person without the experience in his life.

When Virgil walks by the window outside, leaving and holding his fiance’s hand, he waves at Roman. Some things, he supposes, always stay the same. Others, however, change for the better. He knows this situation is one of the latter.

He smiles as he waves back.


End file.
